Everyone needs someone
by Is0lde
Summary: (crossover with "Harry Potter") Giles, Buffy, Xander and Willow take a trip to Hogwarts, romantic, dramatic and humorous stuff ensue. I suck at summaries, just read it.
1. Prologue

**Author's note:** This is set somewhere mid season 6 of "Buffy". It's post "Once more, with feeling" but Giles hasn't gone away. So, it's kind of AU. But only a little. I'll let you decide for yourselves when you want it to be set in Potterverse ;) That way you can form the story yourselves, i.e. I don't have to do all the work, mohahaha.  
And this is PG-13. It was supposed to be R, but... heck, I don't write good smut. Sorry.

This is a birthday present for Minea (Minh) Michaelsdotter. Happy birthday, m'dear! Hope you'll enjoy this small token of appreciation from me to you. Keep writing those wonderful fanfictions, and be the lovely person that you are.

---

**Prologue **

"You thought you could just take off without letting me know?!"

Dawn was furious. Anger management was really not her thing. Voice high-pitched as ever, it seemed like she was aiming at screaming everyone's ears off – and she was damned near succeeding, too.

"We thought that was the best thing we could do," said Giles uncomfortably. The old librarian wasn't one for the shrill sound of an upset teenager. "We thought you might go ballistic if you weren't allowed to come, and… well, apparently we were right."  
"Oh, shut up Giles! I'm part of the gang now, you can't just ignore me and treat me like a kid again all of a sudden!"  
"This isn't something you need to be a part of," said Buffy as calmly and decidedly as she could muster. She'd been making a cup of nice, hot tea for her little sister, something she'd foolishly enough thought would soothe her. After realising she'd been naïve to think such a thing, she'd decided to keep the cup to herself. "It's just a fieldtrip, Dawnie. Kind of like the ones you do at school – the ones I hear you complaining about all the time."  
"Only this is far more interesting and has monsters you could slay and possibly mildly hot guys you could stare at," Anya added in her usual thoughtless manner. "It's clearly a grown-up thing."  
"Err, Anya," said Giles apologetically. It was like he was dancing on the edge of a sharp knife, trying to prevent the inevitable fall from it. He took off his glasses to rub them clean – as if that had ever helped him solve anything for the better. "You're not coming either."  
"WHAT?"  
"Smart move, Giles," said Xander sarcastically. "Now she'll go along with your plan for sure. I thought you said you'd ease her into it, not throw it in her face like this."

Anya stared at Giles as though she was preparing to rip his head off – not such a bad analogy, considering her former line of work. "Wait a minute here! Beady eyes gets an invitation and I don't? Hello! Former vengeance demon here! I could do a hell of a lot more good than he could. He can't even use a sword properly! And besides, I've got a hundred plus more years of experience."  
"Yes, yes, we're quite aware of that," Giles said carefully. "Meanwhile, someone has to take care of the Magic Box while we're away, and – dare I say it – yours are the only hands I want near my money. I wouldn't trust a substitute."  
Anya's frown dissolved, and she smiled brightly towards him. Flatter always worked on her. "Well, I guess that's something to be put into consideration. All right, I'll do it! I'll take care of the Magic Box. But don't expect me to baby-sit Dawn."  
"Baby-sit? I'm fifteen!"  
"You still watch Cartoon Network at five AM, and I have to remind you to brush your teeth. Sorry, sis, that means you qualify as a kid," said Buffy matter-of-factly.  
"Yeah, well, I'm coming with you guys anyway, so there's no need for a baby-sitter or anything of the sort!"  
"I can baby-sit her. Don't have much else to do anyway."

Everyone turned around to face the kitchen door, and no one was surprised to see Spike standing in the doorway, his usual thick blanket over himself.

"Oh hi, Spike," Xander threw at him. "Have you come to join in on the discussion or is there someone here you'd like to sink your sharp predator teeth into?"  
"Sod off, lapdog," Spike retorted in a perfectly normal tone of voice, indicating that he'd spent so much time insulting the Scoobies that it just came automatically. "So what do you say, Slayer? Trust me to take care of the little bit while you're away?"  
"I don't need to be taken care of!" Dawn shouted.  
"Sure, Spike. That'd be great," answered Buffy and smiled at him. "That solves a lot of trouble for us. I'll make sure there's fresh animal blood in the fridge before we leave."  
"Thanks."  
"Buffy, need I tell you what I think of this?" warned Giles.  
"No. Actually, I know perfectly well what you think, oh stuffy one. I don't think there's going to be a problem. And if Spike tries anything… well, for one think, his chip will go off, and secondly, Dawn knows where I keep my weapons. You'll stake him if he tries anything, right Dawnie?"  
"Thanks a bloody lot for the confidence," muttered Spike. But he was rather amused than hurt. As if the little bit could ever do anything to harm _him_…!  
"I'm coming…" Dawn began.  
"… no, you're not. You're staying here with Spike, doing nice things like… eating junk food and watching TV. And we're leaving tomorrow."

Anya was now getting mildly tired of not being a part of the conversation. "So where is it you're going, anyway? Don't think I've heard that yet."  
Giles looked at her, a surprised look on his face. "Oh. Sorry, I assumed you'd know by now, seeing as you always find out about things one way or another. We're taking a fieldtrip to Great Britain."  
"Yeah, yeah, but could you be a little more specific? I suppose you're not visiting the Queen." She gave Giles a distrustful look. "Are you? Because if you are, I'm coming, no matter what you say. I met her once when she was young. Damn, was she one vindictive girl! She'd wish for the most _terrible_ things to punish her lovers…"  
Giles held up a hand to silence her. "Thank you, that's quite alright, Anya. No, we're not visiting the Queen. We're going to a rather different place. Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry."


	2. Arrival at Hogwarts

**Chapter one: Arrival at Hogwarts**

The trip went smoothly. Everyone who went along – Buffy, Willow, Xander and Giles, of course – were perfectly comfortable taking the Express from King's Cross. Xander commented on the nice type of wood in which the train was decorated; he felt he needed to make a professional statement, to prove himself useful in any way. In his mind, though, the suspicion that they might just have brought him along because it would've hurt his feelings if they hadn't grew all the more strong. He tried to ignore it, but it was surprisingly hard. After all, Anya was right, wasn't she? He wasn't useful. He wasn't _needful_. All he did was tag along, trying not to get in the way.  
Right?

After a couple of hours' travel, they finally arrived at Hogsmeade. Willow was thoroughly amazed.  
"Hey, can I have a look around? Please?" She was a bit jumpy after having spent so much time on the train.  
"No," answered Giles stiffly. "We need to get to the school. Dawn is at home watching soap operas with Spike, the until just recently dangerous vampire, and Anya's probably scaring away all of my customers. Need I say more? We should hurry as much as possible, so we can get…"  
He paused mid-sentence. All of them fairly perplexed, everyone looked at him. He seemed awfully confused all of a sudden, for no apparent reason, which wasn't like him at all.

"… Giles?" Xander asked. "You there, old fellow?"  
"I think he's dozed off," said Buffy, frowning.  
"With his eyes open? Excuse me, miss powerful chosen one, but I don't think so," said Xander, not without a trace of irony in his voice.  
"Hey, carpenter boy, what do _you_ know?"  
"I know only military can sleep with their eyes open," snapped Xander.  
Buffy nodded. "Yeah, well… question is, how do we awaken him?"  
"Guys…" Willow, having succeeded to draw attention to herself, pointed silently toward the direction Giles was staring at.

It was a lady, Giles' age or a few years older. She was wearing a distinguished green dress, a string of pearls around her neck and a pointy hat to round off the look. And she was walking straight towards Giles, a minor smile on her lips.

"… home." Giles finally finished the sentence, and a smile began to spread across his face. "But on second though, why rush things? This is sort of a vacation, after all. By all means, Willow… you go explore." The lady had now almost reached him, and he stretched out his hand. "You must be Minerva."  
The lady nodded slightly. "Yes, I am. Minerva McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House. You are all most welcome."  
"Well, enchanté," whispered Giles, more to himself than anyone else. He approached her slowly, apparently trying to look graceful in spite of his age. "I'm Rupert, Rupert Giles. But you can call me… Ripper." Thus, he bent down and kissed her hand in a gentleman sort of manner.

Buffy suddenly felt nausea overwhelm her. She wasn't ready for the sight of a flirtatious Giles. "Eww," she proclaimed, leaning against Xander for support. "He's flirting with her!"  
"Yeah, I kind of noticed," said Xander, equally disgusted, patting her on the shoulder. "And he's using his old pet-name."  
"It isn't that strange when you think about it," Willow said, seemingly unmoved. "Ripper does sound a bit more like a _young_ name than… uh… Rupert."  
"But he's Giles! Giles, people. He isn't supposed to have intimate relations!" Xander shook his head violently, almost causing Buffy to fall over when her balance was disrupted from the sudden movement. "Oh, sorry, Buff."  
"Xan, I'm sorry to negate what you're saying, but you're wrong. Remember Miss Calendar?"  
"Right," sighed Xander. "But you all know what I mean, right? You have to admit it, Willow… it's kind of yucky."  
Willow shook her head vigorously. "I don't see anything wrong in Giles being happy at last. I know he could really use some happiness in his life. I don't think he's succeeding in filling up the void inside him with ancient texts and dusty books. Everyone needs someone."  
"It wasn't just miss Calendar, though. He had a thing with my mom, too. Remember?" Buffy said, smiling shakily at the memory. "The candy bars…"  
"Right," disrupted Xander quickly in an attempt to spare her of the memories. "Giles has been around a bit, all right. But… no, sorry, but I just can't see it. The two of them. Together."  
"Aw, come on Xander. What's the harm?" said Willow, looking at the pair as she spoke. They were now standing quite close to each other, talking constantly. Since they were a few metres away from the rest of the group, they couldn't hear what they were saying. "I think they're cute," Willow continued. "Oh, look, she's dropped her hat! And he's… aw, he picked it up for her! Oh, oh, now she's whispering something in his ear… he's blushing? What could she…"  
"Let's not even go there," Buffy said and silenced her. "Well leave the mummies be, 'kay? Hey, maybe if we close our eyes it'll all go away." She did so, and then, slowly, she opened them. "Nope, still there," she sighed.

---

The lovebirds, having made contact in a fabulously polite and old-fashioned way, went first into the carriage that had been selected as their means of transportation to Hogwarts. They sat down beside each other; Giles, being the gentleman he was, let her get in first and then parked himself as far away from her as possible, yet right next to her. She gave him the courtesy of a gentle smile.

"Quite the gentleman, mister Giles," she pointed out, correcting her hat as it had brushed against the ceiling when she got in.  
"I've told you once and again, Minerva – do please call me Ripper," Giles insisted, a sheepish smile on his wrinkled face.  
"Ripper." Her smile grew bigger, her thin lips stretching almost inhumanly. Buffy gave Xander a look filled with terror, which was soon returned. The professor leaned back against her seat. "So. I understand you're mainly coming to inspect our library?"  
"Yes," Giles answered, writhing uncomfortably. He felt everyone's gaze upon him, and it wasn't that pleasant being watched. But after a reproachful look from Willow, everyone turned to look out through the beautifully crafted window, to inspect the suddenly very interesting surroundings. "I was a librarian at Sunnydale High, back when Miss Summers and her friends went there."  
Buffy frowned, once again looking at Xander for some sort of reaction. "_Miss Summers_?" She turned to Giles. "Hey, what's with the formalities, mister Giles?"  
Giles tried to look stern. Unfortunately, a stupid smile still occupied his lips, and the result of his efforts turned out a horrible grimace, most of all resembling some sort of stoned duck. "That is how Watchers are to address their Slayers, _Miss Summers_."

Minerva glared at them. "Excuse me, but it seems your… is it 'Slayer'? Yes, your Slayer is having some behavioural difficulties… Ripper."  
"Yes. While I have tried every method possible to improve her manners, she's still somewhat traumatised from her life as an American citizen." Giles caught Buffy's eye and winked at her, and she understood. He wanted to at least appear professional in front of professor McGonagall, and that was an impossibility if they continued the open, sarcastic dialogue they had always had between them. Buffy winked back. She could deal with it a couple of days. She just had to keep all of what was bottled up inside her… inside until then.  
"I am a hopeless case, professor. Please do forgive me if I have offended you with my frank and impolite tone of speech," she said, faking a British accent. Xander looked like he was going to burst into either laughter or tears – possibly both at the same time. But he restrained himself.  
McGonagall looked at her, a strange look on her face. But she didn't comment on Buffy's behaviour again during the trip.

Arriving at the castle, the Scoobies couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of it all. There seemed to be no end to the towers, and the architecture looked like something out of a fairytale. Just the fact that they were able to see anything at all was an honour, Buffy had come to realise. Giles had told her before they'd begun their trip that muggles – ordinary people – normally weren't able to see the castle in all its splendour. But the professors at Hogwarts, and finally the headmaster himself, had been courteous enough to let them, through the use of high magic. Willow hadn't got the information, though; Giles had figured that she might've tried to figure the whole procedure out if she'd known that magic was involved in any way, and since she was still on the recovery, he kept it quiet. So to her, it wasn't some big miracle, but to the rest of them, it was magnificent.

As they walked into the Great Hall, a bunch of teachers came forth to welcome them. There were few students to be seen, though; McGonagall had explained that they were currently in class.  
The group of teachers was very friendly and informative. They told Giles about the story of the school, how it all had begun and up to the present day and time, although it was a fairly short version.

"Ask miss Granger if you want to know anything else," said professor McGonagall, pushing a brown-haired girl forward. "I've deployed her and a couple of more students to escort you to what will serve as your sleeping quarters during your stay here, but she seems to be the only one who's showed up. The students' obedience here are sometimes quite servile, but I'm sure miss Granger will do her job." She walked away, Giles' gaze following her as she went down the hall.  
Xander stared at the girl standing in front of him. She was carrying more books under her arm than he would have thought possible with her skinny arms, and as a construction worker, he was thoroughly impressed.  
The girl McGonagall had introduced as miss Granger shook Giles' hand vigorously using her free arm. "Pleased to meet you, mister Giles."  
He let go of her hand to gesture vaguely toward the Scoobies, who were standing just behind him. "Likewise, I assure you. Well, perhaps I should introduce you… this is Buffy Summers, also known as the Slayer."  
The girl nodded, curtsying. "I've read about you, miss Summers. It's an honour."  
Buffy grinned. "Please. It's not like I'm a goddess or something. Defeated one once, though.I'm just plain old me."  
"But still," the girl persisted, "you've done spectacular work. I think you'd be perfectly fit to be an Auror."  
"An… an Auror?" Buffy looked perplexed. This wasn't the kind of praise she had been expecting.  
"They do similar work to yours," miss Granger explained.  
"Oh."  
"And the others are her… co-workers," continued Giles, "for a lack of a better word."  
"Also known as 'the sidekicks'," Xander added humorously. "I'm Xander, and this lovely redhead is Willow."  
Willow granted her a big, warm smile. The girl smiled back, nodding. "You're a witch."

Willow's smile faded but slightly, a puzzled look on her face. "Umm… yes, I am. How did you know?" she asked carefully.  
"Please," said the girl, giggling slightly. "I've been on the Internet, you know. I'm muggleborn, so I have some access to technical search-engines."  
"I'm on the Internet?!"  
"Of course. You all are."  
"Well, what did you expect," mumbled Xander. "Everything's on the Net these days. You should know, seeing as your out surfing all the time. And hey, the work we do, we _should _get some recognition."  
"Right," coughed Willow, taken aback by the sudden surprise. "Right."

Some seconds later, a boy came walking up toward them. He was obviously looking for miss Granger, and he advanced through the hall quickly to get to her.  
"Hermione!"  
The girl turned her head, and detected the boy instantly. "Hi, Harry. Come over here and greet the guests!"  
"Guests?" Harry frowned, looking at the Scoobies. Then, his frown vanished and he smiled courteously. "Right, McGonagall put you in charge of the welcoming committee."  
"Malfoy didn't turn up, of course," she said, rolling her eyes. "That wasn't such a surprise. But Neville was supposed to help, too, and he's usually all about commitment. I'm getting worried something might've happened to him. Was he at Potions class?"  
"Yeah," Harry answered her, correcting his untidy hair. "He had an accident while brewing a potion… well, you know Neville. You can imagine Snape's reaction. He literally threw the poor guy out, bellowing the he should get to madam Pomfrey as soon as possible."  
Buffy inspected the boy as he talked. He seemed quite a plain character. There was nothing special about him, really; he wore the same outfit as the rest of the pupils, and thick, round glasses. The only thing mildly interesting was the scar in his forehead, shaped as a lightening-bolt.

"Interesting scar you've got there," she said, disrupting the conversation he'd been having with Hermione. "What's your secret? I can't ever seem to get my scars to shape that appealingly."  
The boy met her investigating gaze, smiling lopsidedly. "Couldn't tell you. I didn't put it there."  
"But then, who…"  
"Silence, Buffy." Giles' stern tone of voice shut her up efficiently. The look on his face told her she shouldn't ask more, rather just be still and hold her mouth.  
"Sorry," she muttered.  
"It's okay," Harry retorted. "It's just, it's kind of complicated, that's all. And I understand that you have got to get going and unpack, am I right?"  
Giles nodded approvingly. "Now here's someone you could learn from, Buffy. Right down to business. You get so much more work done that way."  
"Yeah, and in such a dull and uninteresting way, too!" sneered Buffy under her breath. Giles pretended not to hear, lifting up his luggage. He'd brought only the most important things – clothes, toothbrush and a couple of booklists. Buffy's luggage was considerably larger, and contained multiple changes of clothing, at least three pairs of shoes and a make-up kit.  
"All set? Then let's go!" said Hermione, leading them off towards the nearest staircase.

They were given a room located somewhere between the Gryffindor girls' and boys' dorms. Since they knew each other so well, that wasn't a problem, sharing a room unisex style. The only condition was that the 'boys' had to promise not to sleep in the nude, a request they were more than happy to accommodate.  
After the gang had unpacked, Harry and Hermione introduced them to the nicer students, which pretty much meant anyone who wasn't in Slytherin house. Buffy got the impression that Harry had built up his own little 'Scooby gang' at Hogwarts. There was Hermione Granger, of course - a girl who resembled Willow, back in the early days when she had been a bit of a geek – but also a redhead boy named Ron Weasley, a quite shy character. The latter apparently had numerous siblings who also attended the same school.

After a while, Willow began to feel queasy. She didn't know why, but she had a terrible stomach-ache, and her head was spinning. Giles helped her to get to madam Pomfrey, allowing Buffy to stay with all of the new people.


	3. Double the trouble

**Chapter two: Double the trouble**

"Watch out!"

The cry was loud and shrill, and it scared Giles out of his wits. He'd been out walking in the corridors – having left Willow in madam Pomfrey's excellent care – looking at the quite vivid paintings on the walls, and was therefore unprepared for any sudden sound or other impression. He stumbled backwards, tripping over something on the ground, only to fall over and hit his head on the hard, cold floor. He groaned from the hurt, eyes closed shut, and rolled over on his back.

"Goodness, he looks dead."  
"He can't be dead, he just moved. Hey, are you awake?"  
Giles felt someone tugging at his collar. He opened one eye slowly, trying to focus on the blurry image that his ocular nerves were feeding him. It was vaguely red. Red and freckly.  
"It's alive! It's alive!"  
"'Course it is… I mean, _he _is. No one could die from tripping over a cat, right?"  
"Right. Right."  
"Umm, hello? Mister? We're sorry, we really are. We thought you were someone else."

Giles sat up as fast as he could, opening his other eye in the process. He was now beginning to get a correct more view of things. The two blurry shapes that he had seen took form of two young men, tall and skinny, with red hair and school robes on. He could tell from the badges on their clothes that they were from Gryffindor house.

"I'm… I'm Rupert Giles, I'm here with…"  
"Yeah, we know that now. Sorry again for the inconvenience. We just though, you know, that you were a new professor of some sort," one of the boys said. Giles couldn't tell them apart, it was impossible; they were identical twins.  
"You though I was a professor, and… you wanted to scare me to death?" Giles asked, confused.  
"Yeah. No, not scare you to death… rather make a good first impression."  
"Or a bad one, it depends on how you look at things."  
Giles shook his head a couple of times, just to clear his head. "Who are you?"  
They looked at him disrespectfully. "What? You've never heard of us?"  
"Well, I am new around here."  
"The teachers should have warned you anyway," one of the twins said, grinning.  
"I concur," retorted Giles dryly.  
"We're the Weasley twins. I'm Fred, and he's George." The twin who had spoke last pointed at his brother. "You can call him Georgie."  
"Oh, shut up, Fred."  
"Okay, now that we've got that part straight," said Giles sternly, "can you tell me what it was that I tripped over?"

The twins grinned simultaneously. Then, they uttered a word that Giles couldn't really hear, waving the sticks that all of the people at Hogwarts referred to as 'wands', and a monster appeared in front of them. Giles couldn't tell what was the beginning and what was the end of the creature; it was coloured ginger, and had claws. He couldn't help but think that an experiment at the school must've gone horribly wrong, and that the beast they'd created had been somehow unleashed.

"This is Crookshanks," Fred said. "We borrowed him from Hermione earlier."  
"Or stole, whichever you prefer," George filled in.  
"Yeah, we didn't actually tell her she was lending it to us."  
"She might've said no."  
"Probably would've."  
"Yeah, so, anyway, we wanted to see if we could make him run out of the shadows in the exact right moment, so you'd trip over him."  
The pair looked pleased. Giles stared at them.  
"Well, congratulations. You succeeded. Now I think I'll tell professor McGonagall about what you've been up to, boys."

Shockingly enough, this didn't exactly strike terror in the twins. They just laughed maniacally, and started walking off, away from Giles. "You do that, old geezer. I doubt that she'll be very surprised."  
"She deals with us every day, you know."  
"Yeah, it's not like this is our worst – best – stunt ever."  
"No. Hey, remember the time when…"

Their voices disappeared with them, as they advanced through the corridor. Giles found it hard to stand up – he felt like his back had been thoroughly mangled.  
"Now which floor was that madam Pomfrey on," he muttered to himself, as he heaved himself up the best he could, using the only parts of his body that weren't in excruciating pain: his arms.


	4. Underdogs united

**Chapter three: Underdogs united**

"Hey."

Ron jumped at the sound of the voice. He hadn't been prepared. He'd been sitting in an armed chair in front of the fireplace, reading up on his Defence Against the Dark Arts. His paper was way overdue; it should've been handed about a week ago. Fortunately, the new teacher could understand the students' lack of discipline. After all, this was the beginning of the school year, and everyone was a bit sloppy. Except Hermione, of course.

It was Xander. Ron had greeted him earlier upon the group's arrival, but he hadn't expected a visit from him here, in the common room. The guest was casually dressed as always, jeans and fleece shirt on. Ron felt awkward in his robes.  
"Hiya, Xander."  
Xander took a seat next to Ron, adjusting the chair so they could talk easier. "Thought I'd find you here. You sit in the common room a lot?"  
"Yeah," Ron answered him, putting his paper, bottle of ink and quill away. It wasn't polite to keep writing, he figured, and especially not when a _guest_ came to see him like this. "It's warmer than the sleeping quarters here by the fire. Besides, it's better lit." He gave Xander a doubtful look. "So, what's up? Why aren't you with the rest of your lot?"  
"Buffy keeps taking my pillows," Xander answered, shrugging. "She's pretty violent in her sleep… not so weird when you think about it. Figured it'd be nicer in here."  
"Buffy. Is she the blond one?"  
"Yeah. The blond. Also known as the leader, the almighty Slayer and the Chosen."  
Ron smiled. "Thought so. Hey, is she… I mean, you and her, do you ever…"  
Xander understood what he meant almost instantly. "Buffy and me? God no. A whole world of no. Well, I had a thing for her years ago, but… she's always gone for the dangerous, dark and broody type. As you can see, I don't really fit the description. Which is fine, 'cause I've got Anya now. Not as blond, but equally hot."  
Ron sighed. "Okay. I just thought… well, since you're the only male in the group… except for the old man, that… well, you know."  
"Old man? Oh, you mean Giles?" Xander chuckled. "Don't ever let him hear you say that. He's still 'young at heart' – at least he likes to think so."  
Ron guffawed, looking a bit like a horse because of his front teeth. Xander caught himself thinking the boy was really cute. "Yeah, it's pretty much the same deal with McGonagall. I mean, mascara and eye shadow, at her age? Just makes the whole appearance a tad more pathetic."  
"Has she ever bought a sports-broom? Then she and Giles have a lot more in common than they realise. Giles' bought a brand new car when he was feeling too old. It was red, bright and shiny. Guess how much we taunted him about that. That was months ago, and Buffy's still going at it."

"Seems you guys are really tight," said Ron, tugging at the tufts on the armed chair. "I mean, after all that you've been through… you know each other so well. It must be really comforting to know they're always there, no matter what."  
"It is," Xander said, smiling sincerely. "It really is. We're close, all right. I mean, I trust Buffy with my life – sometimes even involuntarily." Suddenly, his smile faded, his eyes darkening slightly. "Too bad it doesn't work the other way around, though."  
"What do you mean?"  
The crackle of the fire was all that could be heard for some moments. Then Xander sighed deeply, his face a mask of sadness. "I… well, what do you think I mean? You've seen the gang, Ron. You've seen the people I hang out with. Witches, bookish Watchers, ex-demons. Not to mention a girl who, although she's shorter than me, has super human strength. A guy like me… well, I don't really fit in the gang, do I?"  
Ron looked at him in surprise. "I hadn't noticed," he said reassuringly, whilst he was playing with his quill. "I mean, you're brave and stuff. And you're the funny one in the bunch. There's got to be a funny guy to, keeping the spirit of the team up. Me, on the other hand…" He stopped playing with the quill, and looked straight at Xander. "I feel that perhaps I'm not qualified to fight alongside my friends. Harry and Hermione, they're both great at magic. They've both got something going for them that I'll never have. I'm not brilliant in any way, and I always screw up when I try to do magic. Yeah, I provide Snape with every opportunity in the world to pick on someone, and to draw points from Gryffindor house."  
Xander frowned. He'd only met some of the teachers at their arrival, and just the ones who'd been kind enough to welcome them. He recognised the name, but he couldn't put a face to it. "Err… Snape?"  
Ron looked at him, confused at first, then apologetically. "Sorry. I forgot you weren't a student. Snape's the Potionsmaster. You know, greasy hair, big nose… real malicious looking. Ring a bell?"  
Finally, it all came back to him. Xander snapped his fingers. "Right! He was standing in the corner of the Hall when we arrived. You're right, he had kind of a shady look to him." He leaned forward a bit, so as to whisper his next few words. "You're sure he isn't… you know… evil? 'Cause he really looked it, you know."  
Ron smiled ironically. "No, actually, I'm not sure at all. You never know with Snape. One minute he's mister Big Bad himself, the other he's preventing Harry from falling off his broom and breaking his neck. He's a really ambiguous character. We're not through figuring him out yet."  
"Okay." Xander shook his head. "There'll always be some of those people around. Seems the world can't exist without 'em. It gives us good folks something to do, you know? Figuring deceptive characters out."  
"I guess."  
"So he gives you a hard time, does he?"  
"Mhm. Well, not just me… everyone except the Slytherins. It's only natural, of course, since they're his people. But still…" Ron sighed and gazed into the fire, a dreaming look on his face. "I wish Dumbledore could kick him out, replace him with someone who actually can practice his job without taunting his students to their deaths."  
"I felt the same way about my math teacher back in high school," said Xander, nodding. "She was a real bitch."  
"There has to be some of those people around, too," Ron smiled sarcastically. "Just so you don't feel content with things."  
"Yup." Xander followed Ron's example and looked into the fire. The flames licked the bars and looked like small devils, just waiting for the chance to jump out and torch the place. "But back to the things you said before. I found it really interesting."  
"What part?"  
"The part about you feeling as shut out as me," said Xander. He was testing the boundaries now. He'd never thought he'd stumble upon someone who felt just like he did, and had the exact same problems. It was just incredible. It was… intriguing. "The part about you feeling like everyone's better than you, and that they're light-years ahead of you when it comes to importance and talent."

Ron turned away from the fire, his eyes glinting toward Xander. "Oh," he said, a doleful smile on his lips. "That part."


	5. Nightly encounters

**Chapter four: Nightly encounters**

Walking through the big halls, Buffy felt a chill running down her spine as she heard her steps echo back and forth between the walls. The sound was disproportional, and made it seem like she was a giant.

She couldn't for the life of her sleep. Everything around her was so new and exciting, she didn't _want_ to sleep either. She wanted to explore. There were some really interesting things brewing beneath the calm surface of this gigantic old castle, she could tell. Whether it was good or evil, she didn't know. But it was definitely major. Energies surging, emotions fluttering, left behind centuries ago… old places always had history.

The paintings that hung on the walls were all very nicely drawn. There were landscapes, portrays of people, and different animals she couldn't name and had never even fantasised about.

The staircases had been a real conundrum. Eventually, she'd had to jump down from one staircase to another, just to get to the second floor. She couldn't understand the meaning of it all. Why would you want unreliable staircases? They were bad enough as they were, especially when you were drunk and couldn't walk straight. But then again, this was, after all, a school. Students were probably not allowed to drink, and the professors, they all seemed very responsible and full of morality. _Much unlike the professors at Sunnydale high_, she thought, and giggled quietly to herself.

Suddenly, she heard a loud noise. It seemed to be coming from about twenty metres ahead of her, where two corridors met and made a 'fork in the road'.  
She reached for her stake almost automatically. She always carried one, of course, and although she didn't think there were a lot of vampires around the school, you could never be too careful. Besides, it was pointy – what more could you ask for in means of defence?

Slowly, Buffy walked forward. She'd kicked off her shoes as soon as she'd heard the noise; after all, high heels wasn't the best footwear when the situation required stealth. She was proud of how well she was handling this. Since she wasn't fully awake – the sleepiness had begun gaining on her – she could've done a hell of a lot worse.

"And what, if I may so inquire, are you doing out strolling in the corridors, little missy?"  
Buffy recoiled at the sound of the harsh, brutal voice. She turned around to face whatever was behind her.  
It turned out to be a middle-aged man, quite monstrous looking, with a lantern in his hand and a ragged cat by his side. The cat's eyes were aglow like fireflies. Buffy shuddered.  
"I'm just looking 'round," she answered, sounding more confident than she was feeling at the moment. "And you?"  
"Me?" The man chuckled coldly, swaying the lantern back and forth in his hand. "I have every reason to be here. You, on the other hand, do not." His eyes narrowed, peering suspiciously at her, as if he was somehow trying to see right through her. "Who are you? I don't think I've ever seen you before. Are you one of the students?"  
"I'm a guest," Buffy retorted, lowering the stake somewhat, as a sign of good will. The man didn't seem to notice, though; his attitude was just as reserved and cold as before. "I'm here with mister Giles. Dumbledore invited us."  
The man looked like he was thinking things through. Then, he lit up somewhat. He still looked awfully stupid, though. "Ah, you're one of _them_. Well then, my apologies, miss…?"  
"Summers," she said. "Buffy Summers."  
"… miss Summers. I thought you were a student. As you may or may not know, they're not allowed outside their dorms at night. We don't want them running 'round, disturbing the peace. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. I'm mister Filch, and I patrol here at night to make sure the students are obeying the curfew."  
"Yeah." She was raging inside. She knew the type pretty well. Stuffy, uptight old man, trying to prevent kids from having fun. She'd had enough of his sort back when she was in high school. "So what's with the cat? Didn't have enough money to buy an owl or some other cool animal?"  
Oddly enough, the cat seemed to understand the insult. It hissed – most remarkable; Buffy had never heard a cat hiss before, she'd thought only snakes did that – and showed its teeth.

Filch didn't seem to pay any particular heed to Buffy's snappy one-liner. Instead, he bent down and picked up the cat into his arms. Clutching the furious animal tightly to his chest, he passed the Slayer, consequently ignoring her as he walked past. "Come now, Mrs Norris," he whispered almost inaudibly to the cat. "Let's see if we can find some naughty students on the next floor…"

Buffy stared at him as he walked away. "Well, that was peculiar," she muttered to herself. "Maybe I should get back to bed before I get attacked by a griffin or something equally unpleasant."  
But the night proved to have more surprises in store for Buffy.

She hadn't gone more than ten metres from the spot where she had run into Filch, when she heard noises again. This time, they were coming from one of the doors on her right.  
She inspected the door closely. It didn't lead to a classroom, that was for sure. Had to be one of those rooms that appeared and disappeared by themselves, like the ones Dumbledore had told her about earlier. She remembered the story about the room filled with chocolate frogs. It sounded absolutely delicious.  
"I could really use some chocolate right about now," she mumbled, carefully placing her hand on the doorknob. "Here goes nothing…"  
She flung the door open, not hesitating for a second.  
What she saw, however, made her turn immediately, as quickly as she could.

"Okay. Those are positively not chocolate frogs!" she exclaimed, standing still in the doorway, back turned, not knowing exactly what to do. Eventually, she turned again, 'cause she had difficulty believing what she'd just seen.

It was a perfectly plain room. The walls were white, with no decoration, and there was no other doorway. However, there was a huge bed in the centre of the room, and in it, there were two naked boys, of whom Buffy only recognised one. It was Harry Potter, the dark-haired, seemingly plain boy she'd met earlier, upon the group's arrival. The scar was a dead give-away. Underneath him, another boy with bleached, blond hair was writhing in pleasure. They both seemed to be enjoying themselves. They were entangled in each other and in the thin silk sheets embedding them.  
Midst all of this going on, Buffy couldn't help but feel like a terrible party-crasher.

Harry had noticed her now, and with a surprised look on his face, he tried to free himself of the blond boy's apparently quite firm embrace.  
"Potter… what are you doing? Don't stop… _hey_!"  
"Shut up, Malfoy!"  
Ah. So this was Draco Malfoy, of whom Buffy had herd so many bad things from everyone, and Harry's friends in particular, before they'd all gone to bed. Buffy found herself utterly perplexed.

Draco had now finally noticed the uninvited guest, as well. His eyes wide-open, he rolled over and away from Harry, covering himself in one of the sheets. Harry had already done the same thing, and was now sitting on the bedside, looking at Buffy with a strange mixed expression of surprise, guilt and lasting pleasure on his face.

"Who are you," roared Malfoy, his voice trembling, "and what the hell are you doing here?"  
"Well…" Buffy began, but clearly, Malfoy wasn't finished.  
"How did you get in? We put a magic seal on that door!"  
Buffy, still not knowing what to do with herself, looked down at the floor. She felt embarrassed, although she had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't the one in the worst predicament. "I'm… uh… my name is Buffy, and I'm the Slayer. I daresay you've heard of me…? No? Okay, maybe you don't have access to the Internet then… uh, I came here with mister Giles."  
Draco frowned, his pretty face becoming a bit wrinkled. "Giles? The old geezer? The one with the James Bond complex and stupid accent?"  
"That would be him, yes," Buffy nodded. She didn't know what else to do. In a desperate try to get everything right in her head, she turned to Harry, who was blushing even more violently than she was. "Hey, Scarboy! I don't understand! I thought you hated this guy?"  
Harry looked away. "Yeah, well… I do. This is just… it isn't…"  
"Look, Buffy or whatever the hell your name is, it's not like we're in love or anything," Draco broke off sarcastically. Apparently, he was the dominant of the two, and he was used to getting his way. He fixed his hair while he spoke. "This is just for fun. For the sport. Right, Potter?"  
"Uh… yeah."

Buffy shook her head. "That's just… I mean, that's… it's not healthy. You understand? Sex without emotion, it's just unnecessary, and it always ends in someone getting hurt. Get it? It always… ends… badly. Furthermore, Harry… how the hell did you manage to sneak out of your bedroom without me noticing? I was right outside in the hallway for an hour, at least! And I'm the freakin' Slayer – I'm supposed to notice these things!"  
Harry smiled sheepishly. He bent down and picked something up from the floor, that was lying underneath a pile of clothes. It was a fine piece of fabric, thin as butterfly wings. "Invisibility cloak," he said. "Got it from my father."  
"Well, I'm sure he didn't intend for you to use it like this," Buffy stated decidedly. "Look, I'm all for the gay thing. On of my best friends is gay…"  
"Hey, who're you calling gay?" grunted Draco. "Like I told you, this is just for fun."  
"… but this is just wrong. Trust me, I know. Either you get a grip and allow yourselves to_ feel _things, or you top with the… boinking. Got it?"  
"And you're better yourself, then?" Malfoy asked, smirking. "'Cause I've heard otherwise."

Buffy stared at the boy. For a moment, she found herself speechless. _What the hell is this about?_ she thought to herself. _How could he know? He has to be bluffing. Better take a careful approach, though._

"Okay, that's it! What have you heard, you little maggot? And who told you?" _That wasn't too careful. Great stuff, B. He'll start singing any minute now. _She slapped herself mentally.  
"Oh, nothing."  
"Don't you dare lie to me! I… I'm the Slayer! The Chosen One! And hey, I'm the one with the stake here-" she raised it to prove she was serious, "- so you'd better start talking… or else!"  
"Or else what? You'll drive that wooden stick through me? Jeez, Slayer, I'm not a vampire." His eyes glinted towards her. "But then again, _maybe I remind you of someone._" Malfoy stroked his blond hair, smiling crudely. "Maybe I _have_ heard something about your attraction to the dark, yet very blond side."

Draco's smirk was getting on Buffy's nerves, and she was beginning to feel more and more frustrated. _What is this? I'm letting some kid annoy me? Oh, come on Buffy!  
_"Okay." She tried to remain as calm as she could, even though all she wanted to do was pin the little sucker to the wall and beat the crap out of him. "What do you want?"  
"I want you to shut the hell up with your moral speeches, and never tell anyone 'bout what you've seen. Got it? Then I won't play the part of the snitch, Buffy the Vampire… _shagger_."  
"Why you little…!" Buffy took a giant step forward, but restrained herself in the nick of time. If she hadn't come to her senses, she might've strangled the boy, acting on pure instinct. She decided to shut up, like he'd told her to. She didn't fancy the idea of cross-examining a teenage boy the entire night, and besides, they were all going home in a few days. After that they'd never see each other again. So why bother?

Harry had now partially got dressed, and handed Draco his underwear as discretely as he could.  
"Here you are, Malfoy."  
"Yeah… thanks, Potter." He pulled them on, still covered by the sheets. Buffy thanked whoever was up there for that. "Same time next week?"  
"Meet you at the usual place."  
"That's fine, then."  
"Yeah, great."

Malfoy pulled the rest of his clothes on while Buffy watched with big astonishment. It was like she was watching a play on stage. Every participating character had a given line, and she got the feeling that they'd been rehearsing for quite some time. It was scary. She could relate to it a lot more than she wanted to.  
When she'd come to again from her moment of intense pondering, Draco had already left. He had evidently passed her going through the doorway, but she hadn't noticed; she'd been lost in her memories of recent meeting with… with…  
Harry was still sitting on the bed, his head now hidden in his hands.

"He's using you. You know that, right?" she said softly, as she sat herself down beside him.  
Harry didn't move. "Yeah," he whispered. "'Course. But you know what? I like it. I _like_ it. Am I sick to love someone who's just using me?"  
After a moment's thought, Buffy placed her hand on his shoulder in a comforting way, something she'd always found worked best in these types of situations. "No," she answered him. "No, you're not sick. Sometimes, the ones who hurt us the most are the ones we love with the greatest intensity. You know what? Malfoy was right. The dark side _does_ attract me. And in my situation, I'm the one using my current… well, I wouldn't call him boyfriend. And he's not my lover either. Actually, it's kind of complicated. The point is, _I'm using him._ I'm being selfish. And he does love me, even though he knows I don't love him back. But that doesn't make him sick. He's… pretty wise, actually… in his own sick, twisted way."

Harry groaned. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do in a situation like this. "It's so hard! Not being able to tell your friends…"  
Buffy felt a surge of guilt inside her. She had the same problems as this boy, only he was more true to his feelings, perhaps. But then again, he wasn't the Slayer. He didn't carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. If he made a mistake, it wouldn't be an apocalyptic disaster. She, on the other hand… "Yeah, that probably the hardest part. It feels like you're lying to them, right? And it hurts… hurt you so bad. But you know, there are things that people around you can't understand. And then… well, I'm just saying maybe it's better to wait until the opportune moment to tell them, and not be discouraged. Maybe they'll understand."  
Harry lifted his head and glanced at her. "So you're saying we should keep at it, then?"  
"No! No, that's not what I'm saying."  
"Well, have you broken it off with _your_ guy, then?"

He did have a point. Buffy cursed inside. Why couldn't she be a better role model than she was? It would've been so much easier telling the boy what was right and what was wrong if she'd known for certain herself. "Err… no. But that's different. I need…" She paused. "I need it. I need him."  
Harry nodded, as he stood up and pulled on his shirt, the only piece of clothing he was still missing. "Well, I need Malfoy," he said decidedly. "More than you can ever imagine, and for reasons you could never understand."  
Buffy nodded back at him, suddenly feeling very tired and insecure. Who was she to judge him? Wasn't she also right in the middle of a tiresome process, trying to figure out what she was to do next? She sympathised with the boy. They did have the same issues. And maybe – just maybe – it was support he needed, and not to be beaten up. "I do understand. Better than you think, anyway."

"I'm going to close this door now," said Harry, waving slightly as to make his point clearer, if she hadn't already understood that he wanted her to get up. "You'd better get out, or else you'll have to wait here until Malfoy's and my next encounter."  
"Wouldn't want that," Buffy mumbled, and got up from the bed. As she exited the room, she let herself caress the boy's face as she walked him by. "You're gonna be just fine," she said, smiling at him. "Just don't let him make all decisions. Don't let him rule your life."  
He looked back at her, and gave her a sombre smile back. "Right back at you," he said. And then, he disappeared beneath his invisibility cloak. She couldn't even hear his footsteps as he walked away.

Buffy was left standing alone in the dark corridor. She was surrounded by the darkness; for the first time since the arrival earlier the same day, she felt right at home.  
"There's darkness everywhere I turn," she whispered to no one. "Maybe I _do_ belong there."  
Upon uttering those words, she started walking back down the hall from where she'd come before.  
After all, she'd left her shoes somewhere back there, and she'd hate to see them go missing.


	6. The stupid thing to do

**Chapter five: The stupid thing to do**

"It's just like, they don't even notice you at times," said Xander.  
"Yeah!" said Ron. "Like, they're all that matters. They're the ones with talent, the ones who're gonna get somewhere with their lives. And I'm just…"  
"… left behind," Xander filled in. "Yeah, that's exactly how it feels. And no matter what I do, no matter how many times I try to prove myself…"  
"… it doesn't matter, 'cause I'm always the one who'll be the least important. I'm expendable."  
"Me too."  
"We're the expendables, then."  
"Yeah."

The young men – for that was really what they were; it would've been wrong calling Xander a boy, but he was most surely not a man, and the same could go for Ron – had now been sitting in the common room talking for about two hours straight. They'd both gone over some of the adventures they'd had the 'pleasure' of participating in, and small bits of their lives, of course, but the point where they'd really connected was on the subject of their feelings. Now, it wasn't that normal for them to talk about how they felt, but in this case, it seemed once they'd opened up to each other, there was no stopping them.  
The burning topic of the evening was their mutual feeling of insufficiency, and how hard it was having talented friends when you yourself was really nothing special in any way.

There was a slight pause in their conversation. Then, Ron spoke again, and his voice was trembling almost as though there was an earthquake going on.  
"Now there's a scary thought."  
"What?" Xander looked at Ron questioningly.  
"When the big battle comes – and it has to, one way or another, 'cause there's always a big battle – we're the comic sidekicks. We're the ones who're going to die. Like I said, we're expendable. I mean, we have nothing going for us, nothing at all. My magic's so-so, you… err, what exactly is it that you do?"  
"I drop quick, sarcastic remarks," said Xander gloomily. "How's that for a useful talent?"

"Well," Ron said, in an aspired cheerful tone of voice, "at least your remarks are funny. Mine are just pathetic. I know they are. I think you have a bigger chance of making it than I do. And your leader is a grownup. Mine's just a teenage boy."  
"Hey, don't disrespect the power of the Boy Who Lived. He's made it through some seriously troublesome situations. And he hasn't even died once. Buffy's died twice already. I mean, look at the odds! Twice in six years, that's…" He paused to think, frowning. "That's not a statistic I would bet on to last in the long run."

Ron looked at him, his face askew in a concerned grimace. It would've looked funny to an outsider, but Xander didn't feel any impulse of laughter coming on. He knew Ron was dead serious. So was he. "It's too bad you guys can't stay here at Hogwarts. We could really use some people who're more… uh… experienced with fighting evil than we are."  
Overcome by a sudden melancholy, Xander tried to smile. He didn't often find himself without something witty and funny to say, but this time, it just wasn't there. "You've managed so far, haven't you? Besides, we're needed in Sunnydale. There's some evil afoot there you wouldn't believe."  
"Oh, I would believe it," said Ron. "I wasn't born yesterday, you know."  
"I know, Ron," Xander said. _Thank God for that,_ he thought to himself. _You're young enough as it is._

He shrunk back slightly. He and Ron had been sitting at the edged of their chairs, close together so they could talk easier and a bit more quiet, so they wouldn't wake everyone up. But now, he felt like he needed some distance from the younger boy.

He leaned back to get as far away from Ron as possible. The fire was beginning to fade at last, but it was like it was fighting for its life, and it had been for hours. The flames danced, mingled with each other; became one, only to separate into multiple new ones. It was kind of beautiful, especially to Xander. He was now staring at it, trying to avoid the persistent feeling that there was something he wanted.

The last half an hour or so, Xander's head had begun to feel very heavy and thick, as though he was drunk or something. That was impossible, since he hadn't had anything to drink in weeks, but nevertheless, everything was turning into a red inferno in front of his eyes. He didn't know why. All he knew was that strange feelings and thoughts were running through him, that he didn't want to recognise as his own.

"You know what? I'm kind of tired. Maybe we should go to bed. And you have class tomorrow, don't you?" Xander hoped that Ron was feeling equally exhausted – although his own exhaustion had more to do with how strange he felt – but his reaction to his suggestion wasn't that endorsing.  
"No! Please, Xander… can't we just… talk some more?" Ron's eyes told Xander that the last thing the boy wanted was for them to part. Although they had been talking for hours, he still wanted more.  
Xander sighed. "Look, kid, I've got to get some sleep. I don't know if you wizards usually hang out until four o'clock in the morning…"  
"Don't call me 'kid'." Ron's eyes were suddenly aflame with a restless anger. He arose from his chair, parking himself in front of Xander, who could no longer recognise the shy, cautious boy he'd met before. True, Ron's insecurity had kind of disappeared more and more as they'd spoken, but this was taking it to a whole new level. "I'm not a kid."  
"'Course not. Sorry," said Xander, now a bit frightened at the sight of the rage-empowered Weasley teen. "Take it easy. You're not a kid… way younger than me, though."

Ron took a step forward, and he was now very close to his chair-seated company. "What does age really tell you?" he whispered, kneeling down on the floor. Xander lowered his gaze to meet his, and saw that he'd calmed down a bit now. When Ron exhaled, Xander could feel his breath on his face. He tried not to admit to himself that it wasn't a completely unpleasant experience. "Everyone always underestimates me," he continued, his voice still lowered so that Xander could barely hear him. "Even my friends do. Though it's not because of my age, it's 'cause I keep… screwing things up. That's why they don't think I'm capable of things the way they are. But I'm not incapable." He stood on his knees now, and placing his hands on the arms of the chair, he leaned forward, his head now the same height as Xander's. Xander could feel chills running down his spine as he felt Ron's elbows come in brief contact with his thighs. "I'm just kind of… _stupid_, is all."

As Ron pressed his lips against his, Xander couldn't think of one good reason to draw back.


	7. What happened to Ripper

**Chapter six: What happened to Ripper**

Just like Buffy, Giles had had trouble falling to sleep, but his reasons were a lot different from hers. In Buffy's mind, there had been a lust to explore – in Giles', there was a lust for something, or someone, else.

When he'd first seen Minerva McGonagall come walking towards him at Hogsmeade, he'd been stunned. It had been a very long time since he'd been interested in a woman more than in a strictly professional manner. Therefore, he had been positively shocked when Minerva's presence had affected him so. It – and she, for that matter – had confused him greatly, but it had also intrigued him. Enticed him. He'd almost felt young again, and for a tired man in his fifties, this wasn't something that happened a lot.

He was fully aware that the professor wasn't exactly gorgeous. She was nothing out of the ordinary: middle-aged, grey-haired with wrinkly skin and a flat chest. But Giles had never been a superficial person. He liked seeing beyond the surface, and he was certain that beneath Minerva McGonagall's unattractive appearance lay a heart of gold and a strong spirit – traits he appreciated, and not just in women. He would've never found himself so intrigued by her if there hadn't been something special about her.

So as he wandered in the halls of the school, she was on his mind constantly, and he found it to be quite a pleasant feeling.

Now, the reason why he'd gone to Hogwarts in the first place had been to get an opportunity to explore the library, which he'd heard to be absolutely marvellous. He had taken into account, of course, that while his two Scooby companions did not share his passion for old books and dusty scrolls, they could still profit from seeing other people – people who didn't belong to their very limited inner circle, and with whom they could be perfectly honest about what they did in Sunnydale, without being considered freaks. And how often do Slayers go on holiday, anyway?

After Minerva had left them in miss Granger's care, he hadn't seen her at all. This could of course have something to do with her having classes and other scholastic responsibilities to take care of, but Giles had still felt a bit hurt that she hadn't sought him out, if only for a small conversation. He realised that it was an absurd notion, because she had never promised him anything. But still… she hadn't even dropped in to say goodnight.

So now, whilst Giles wandered around, he did not only seek the famous library, but also the good professor.

He had begun roaming the halls about two and a half hours ago, and not only was he now getting tired of searching, but his body still hurt from the encounter with the Weasley twins earlier. Every once in a while he let out a small yelp as he felt and heard a cracking sound coming from his back or other parts of his body, and a good twenty times he'd said 'ouch', 'god dammit' and alike. When he'd run into mister Filch, who he understood to be some sort of caretaker, the man had given him a good verbal beating about 'disturbing the peace this late at night' and that he was setting a bad example for the students. He had refrained from telling the man that he'd seen no students whatsoever on his little excursion, and that had probably been for the best.

He had reached one of the staircases again. Everywhere he went, he always ended up by the stairs again, and it made him feel quite uneasy, because it enhanced his general feeling of being totally lost. He didn't want to venture up them, though – he didn't trust them enough to do so.

When he leaned against the stairs for a moment to rest his aching body, he heard a creaking sound coming from many steps above him. He turned his head and glanced upwards, preparing for the worst (which in his state would've been either the Weasley twins or an angry mister Filch).  
He felt his heart skip a few beats when he saw Minerva glide down towards him.

"Why, hello, Rupert," she said, her voice gentle and kind. She didn't have her hat on any longer – _figures_, thought Giles, _she has to take it off some time_ – and wore her hair in a knot at the back of her head.  
"Minerva," he answered her, trying not to smile too broadly. After all, he didn't want to seem silly. "May I ask why you're up so late?"  
She laughed – a short, dry sort of laughter, sounding as if it hadn't been used in quite a while. "Late, Rupert? Well, I suppose that depends on how you look at things. I would have to say it's early, myself, but that's just my opinion. I was actually looking for someone. And you? Is there any reason in particular you're defying the Sandman?"  
"Well, I'm actually… I'm having trouble sleeping. Might have something to do with jetlag, although I seriously doubt it. Maybe it's just my curiosity." He hoped that his explanation hadn't sounded too awkward and lame. Minerva didn't seem to have minded, in any case.  
"I'm sorry I didn't have the decency to say goodnight yesterday," she said carefully, as she sat herself down on one of the lower steps. Giles sat down a few steps away from her, but they were still very close to one another. They were both content that way. "I ran into someone I couldn't avoid, and she had a lot to talk about with me."  
"Who is she? If I may be so bold as to inquire," he added hurriedly, so as not to be rude. The last thing he wanted was to insult her.  
"A girl who has been dead for a long time," McGonagall retorted, seemingly untouched by the subject. "She occupies the old lavatory. I believe the students call her… Moaning Myrtle. Quite cruel, isn't it? But then again, she does moan a lot. Hence the reason why I couldn't seek you out."  
"What did she want then?" Giles had no trouble grasping the whole 'talking to the dead' thing. He had seen stranger things than ghosts in his lifetime.  
"She's awfully alone. She just wanted to talk to someone who'd listen without teasing or picking on her. Just… listen." While she was talking, she played with singular torn threads on her robe. _Almost like a shy schoolgirl on a date_, Giles thought furtively. _She seems almost as nervous as I am. For God's sake, we're adults, not teenagers! Get a grip, Giles, get a grip on yourself and this situation!  
_"That's… wonderful, Minerva. Taking care of those in need, that's… you're an astonishing woman."  
Her eyes twinkled towards him like stars on a pitch-black sky. Sparks flew – or at least Giles thought so.

"A woman?"  
"Yes."  
"You know, you're the first person to recognise me as a woman since… well, since I don't know when."  
"What do people usually see you as, then?" Giles said softly. He didn't want to spoil the moment by saying the wrong thing.  
"As a professor," Minerva smiled. "Or just as a dried-up, bitter old hag."  
"They don't know what they're missing out on then," Giles retorted smoothly.  
She laughed again. This time, the sound of it rang as sweet as music in Giles' ears. When she suddenly stood up, he followed her example without so much as a moment's thought.

"Would you like to see the library?" she asked him, her smile quite mischievous.  
"That would be grand," Giles said, "but wasn't there someone you were looking for?"  
Her smile made him warm inside, and the bodily harm the twins had caused him was long since forgotten. The warmth spread out in all his limbs until he felt like he contained boiling lava. As she took his hand in a firm yet soft grasp, he felt happier than he'd been for years.  
"I've already found him," the professor said, as she dragged him off into a dark passageway which would eventually lead them to the library.


	8. Mutual understanding

**Chapter seven: Mutual understanding**

Why are endings always so hard?

The end of the 'holiday', as Giles had called it, was beginning to draw near, and not just Giles was brooding about it. Buffy had befriended Harry, whom she would sorely miss because he was one of the few people who knew her little secret. And Xander… well, he was confused about things he'd been sure of his entire life. It was like everything he'd ever believed was tumbling down before him, leaving him alone to deal with the consequences.

Since the night they'd spent together, Ron hadn't been seen. Hermione had asked for him at breakfast – apparently there was something she needed to talk to him about – but no one had known where he was or how long he was to be gone. Xander had felt nothing but relief at first, because his disappearance-act allowed him to escape the otherwise inevitable confrontation. But now, he just felt like a coward. Was he to leave the castle behind, and with it all his problems? That was the easiest thing to do, the one that would cost him less headache. But it wasn't very righteous, was it? And if Xander had learned anything from hanging around with superheroes and alike, it was to be righteous at all times, or at least try to be.

Well, he had tried. He had tried to find Ron, but seeing as he didn't know his way around the castle very well, it hadn't gone as planned. He had lost himself completely, and if it hadn't been for the fact that he'd bumped into Dumbledore on the second floor, he might not have made his way back at all.

His mind was there all the time, taunting him with uncomfortable thoughts. Thoughts of Anya, for example; his _girl_friend, sitting at home, waiting for his return in her childishly eager way. What would she have said if she'd seen him with Ron?

What was he going to do? Sure, he wanted to be honest with Anya, but how would she react to his confession? He could see it all now. "Seducing small boys? How could you do that to me? We're to be married! You gave me this ring!" and so on into eternity. The accusations would never end, and what was worse, he was guilty.  
Or was he? Had he seduced Ron? It was all a bit blurry in his head. But he was straight, wasn't he?  
_Wasn't he?_

Sitting in the Gryffindor common room, memories came rushing back to him. Ron's eyes as they'd been aflame with such an anger, such a passion, that he'd never seen anything like it. Ron kneeling before him, leaning forward. Kissing. And then?

He didn't want to think of what had happened next. Maybe denial was for the best. Just… deny that anything ever happened, and go on with life as it had been before. Walk away. And never ever look back.  
Denial was a comfy alternative to reliving yesterday night in his head. He arose from his chair, and turned around to walk out into the corridor. He had promised to meet Buffy in the Great Hall; apparently, there was something she needed to tell him.

He drew breath violently when his eyes met Ron's. The boy was standing right in front of him. Xander wondered how he'd succeeded in sneaking up on his like that. Then again, he had been lost in himself for quite some time.  
For a moment, they just stood there, glancing at each other. Inspecting every inch of each other's faces to detect even the slightest grimace of… anything. That's when Xander realised that Ron was as insecure and lost as he was.  
He decided to do the noble thing: to take the first step.

"Hi, Ron," he said, voice as steady as he could muster.  
Ron looked away, fixating his eyes on the carpet, as though it was suddenly very interesting. "Hi."  
"So…" Xander struggled to find something to say. He had a really hard time doing it, though.  
"So," Ron retorted futilely.  
"So… where have you been today? Everyone was worried." _Thank you_, Xander thought to no one in particular.  
"Took a stroll 'round the grounds. Figured I ought to clear my head."  
"Good idea," Xander said, feeling awfully pathetic. "I wanted to clear my head too, but there was no alcohol anywhere."  
The faintest smile played on Ron's lips. Then it died again. Xander cursed it for being so weak. He really could've used a smile.

"Look," said Xander shakily, trying to stay focused but not quite succeeding, "I wanted to talk to you about… about…"  
"Last night," Ron filled him in. "I can see why. I remember what you said about having a girlfriend earlier."  
"Yeah, exactly. Well, she's not just my girlfriend, she's… my fiancée. And I really didn't mean to betray her in any way. I think what happened between us was… well, you know, we have so much in common, maybe we misinterpreted a feeling of mutual understanding into believing it was…" He stopped, desperately seeking the right word. "Maybe not… love, but… ah, God dammit. I should just shut up, shouldn't I?"  
Ron took a valiant step forward. "Maybe you should. Look, I've been thinking things through, and… it wasn't about love, I think, nor about actual passion. I just think we… connected in some way. So I was thinking… why spoil it?"

Xander felt very confused. "Umm… spoil it? What do you mean?"  
"I mean… you're going away soon, aren't you? Today, if I'm not mistaken. And… we're never going to see each other again. You'll go back to your girlfriend… sorry, your fiancée, and I'll be here. Waiting for the right person to come along some day. So why don't we treasure this… mutual understanding that we have for what it is, instead of analysing it to death?"

Xander thought about this for a moment. He hadn't expected this. He had thought that he'd be forced to let down a poor boy that had developed an infatuation of sorts with him. But this… he liked the idea. He really did. Because how could having a mutual understanding with someone be considered cheating?  
This was of course a terribly childish thought. But then again, Xander had never been that mature.

"I think you have a point," he said, smiling towards Ron. "Maybe we should treasure this, because it won't ever come again. Ever."  
"Then," Ron said, moving a bit closer still, grabbing hold of Xander's upper arms, "I think we should. Treasure it, I mean. Make the most of it."  
Xander shuddered slightly. "Guess we should." And he embraced the boy without so much as a second thought.


	9. The next best thing

**Chapter eight: The next best thing**

Buffy, the almighty Chosen One, the Slayer of her generation, was getting really annoyed with her friend Xander, the construction worker slash carpenter. He was running late. Meanwhile, she felt like she was sitting on a carpet of needles awaiting him. This was when she was going to tell him. She had been delaying it for too long already. It was time to do the Right Thing – which incidentally _never_ was what she really wanted to do. What she really wanted to do now was crawl down beneath some warm covers and forget all about Spike, being the Slayer and all responsibilities she had. But she couldn't.  
After all, she was the almighty Chosen One, the Slayer of her generation.

After having been seated for so long she thought she the small green stains on her hands might actually be moss, Buffy saw two familiar shapes in the other end of the Hall. She peered at them. It was Harry Potter and his frequent lover, the blond Slytherin boy. It seemed they were having a quarrel. Buffy thanked whoever was in charge for giving her something interesting to do while she was waiting for Xander to make his entrance.

She got up from the bench, and down on the floor. The long tables came to an end just about where the two boys where standing, and they made perfect covers if you wanted to sneak up on someone. She crawled forward, using as much stealth as she could. She didn't even hit her head on the table once. That made her kind of proud. As she was getting closer, she could hear their voices more clearly.

"… if you'd been half of the man I am."  
"Oh, shut up, Malfoy! If you're so brave and valiant, why don't you tell your friends you've been screwing me?"  
"Because they might get the wrong idea, idiot! They might think that we were… in love, or something."  
"Well, maybe you aren't. But maybe I am."  
There was a pause in the conversation. Buffy could hear Draco draw breath violently.  
"You aren't. You aren't."  
"I'm just saying…"  
"Then bloody well stop talking! I don't want to hear any of this nonsense, okay? Feelings and all that crap, that's for you and your little noble-hearted friends. I don't care. You hear me? _I don't care_. I don't care about you, about what you think you're feeling, I don't give a fuck about any of it. Okay? You got me? And I don't want to hear it. You want to fuck? That's fine. Just don't ask for more, 'cause I can't give it to you."  
"Can't or won't, Malfoy?"  
Silence again. It was like Draco was recovering from his little outburst, and was now getting ready to strike again.  
But he didn't. Buffy saw him – or at least his feet – walk off. He didn't answer Harry.

Buffy saw it best to crawl out of her hiding. When she did, she gave Harry a good scare. He hadn't been prepared for a Slayer coming out from beneath the table.

"Shit! Buffy, don't scare me like that. I could've jumped you on pure instinct."  
"I'd like to see you try," she muttered, brushing off some dust from her pants. "Hey, who does the cleaning around here? Someone's doing a crappy job with the floors." She straightened herself up, looking straight at Harry, inspecting him mercilessly. His eyes were a bit red. "Have you been crying?"  
"No," he said, sitting himself down on one of the benches in front of her. She didn't follow his example. It was nice getting to stand up after having done so much sitting before. "But it feels like I'm about to."  
"Don't. He's a jerk, okay? Listen to me, Harry. I heard this story a while ago, and I think you should hear it."  
"Does it have anything to do with me?"  
"'Course it has. Just listen. Once, a woman was out collecting firewood in the forest. She came upon a poisonous snake, badly wounded. I don't remember exactly how, but it isn't relevant. Anyway, she brought the snake home, and she nursed it back to health. When the snake was fully recovered, it bit the woman. As she lay dying, she asked the snake why it had bitten her, since she'd been so kind to it. It answered her: 'Bitch, you knew I was a snake.' See my point?"  
Harry thought for a second. Then, he shook his head, making his already hopelessly entangled hair even messier. "Not entirely," he said.  
"Jeez, Potter, do I have to spell it out for you? Malfoy is the snake. You're the woman."  
"Hey!"  
"Still talking in metaphors, kid. Anyway, my point is, if you want to socialise with Malfoy, that's okay. Just remember what he really is. He isn't good."  
"You don't know him," Harry snapped.  
"No, I don't. But I know his type. You're playing by his rules. Don't forget that. He might discard you any minute if he gets bored."  
"Then I'll make sure he _doesn't_ get bored," Harry said decidedly. "I'll keep him interested, one way or another."

Buffy sighed. The boy wasn't exactly responding well to her tactics. "Is this really what you want, Harry? All of this hiding in the shadows, lying to your friends… does it please you?"  
Harry virtually exploded. "Of course it doesn't please me! Of course this isn't what I want! I want to be able to kiss Malfoy and feel that he loves me back, that he isn't just sexually aroused. I want that more than anything." He calmed down, sighing deeply. "I want to be able to tell my friends without them turning on me out of disgust. I want Malfoy to… acknowledge me. But he won't. He never will. And so, this is the next best thing. If this is all I'll ever get from him, then I'm taking what I'm offered. I won't ever turn him down."

Silence fell between them. Buffy didn't have anything to say. She didn't have any more moral speeches ready.  
All she knew was that if _their_ 'relationship' was doomed, so was hers and Spike's. And maybe it was for the best. She was just afraid of how it would feel when they crashed and burned.

"Harry…"  
"Don't." He got up. "Nothing you can say can convince me. And anyway, you're going away now, aren't you?"  
"We are." She reached her hand. He grabbed it, and shook it slowly.  
"Goodbye, Slayer. It's been nice knowing you."  
"It hasn't." She rolled her eyes. "All I've done is shout at you about things that are really none of my concern."  
He looked at her, a strange look on his face. "But thanks for caring," he said. "Thanks."

---

When Xander finally arrived, she stared at him sternly. "Where the heck have you been, Xander? I was just about to sound the alarm."  
"There is an alarm?" His smile almost made her melt and drop her irritated attitude. But just almost.  
"No, it was a figurative speech. You know. Now answer my question. Where were you at, carpenter boy?"  
"I was… busy." He looked a bit awkward as he was sitting there in front of her, and guilty, too. She noticed his shirt was partially unbuttoned. She decided to let that one slip.  
"Busy doing what?" _Or whom_, she thought, but didn't say. After all, Xander was engaged, and she didn't know him to be unfaithful.  
"It's none of your business," he said, still calm and not at all rude.  
She sighed. Clearly, this interrogation was getting nowhere. "Fine. Be all secretive. I actually have something to tell you, something important."  
"Spill the word, Buff. I'm all ears."

She opened her mouth. She knew exactly what to say, down to the last word. She'd been practising for hours before he showed up. Everything was taken into consideration, and it was like a rehearsed speech. All she had to do now was say it.  
Say it. Yes, that was the hard part, wasn't it? Getting the words out of her mouth.  
She sighed again. Damn it, she just couldn't. What was it she'd said to Harry? About the opportune moment to tell? This was not it. This was certainly not it.

"Nothing," she grunted, standing up. "It was nothing."  
Xander gave her a questioning look. "Okay. Don't build up the expectations so much next time you have nothing to say, okay? Come on. I think we'd better get Willow from madam Pomfrey's. We're leaving soon."  
"Oh, God! Willow!" Buffy exclaimed. "I had totally forgot about her! How is she?"  
"Well, Giles says she's recovering. He thinks it might've been all of this magic surrounding her that caused her symptoms. I don't think we'll ever know for certain, but that's as good a guess as any. Speaking of our elderly friend, I think he's really hooked up with that professor. I saw them holding hands when they thought no one was watching."  
"It still freaks me out," said Buffy, a disgusted grimace on her face. "Let's not talk about it."­­

---

"It's time," said Giles, his voice clad in sorrow. He was very reluctant to get in the carriage, especially since he knew Minerva wasn't going with them. She had to prepare for her next class, and simply didn't have the time, as she'd explained to him earlier. Yet now, here she was. She'd gone down to say goodbye, a final farewell. The end.

Buffy and Xander had helped Willow to get in. She was still not fully recovered from the illness that had struck her, and Buffy's tries to cheer her up by telling her stories about all the wondrous things she'd seen – not including the sex, of course – had only made it worse. She grieved having missed out on all the fun.

Professor McGonagall, dressed in her usual robes but hatless just for the occasion, looked at Giles, and he saw that beyond the smiling surface she just was as saddened as he was. It made him kind of happy, in a way, because that meant that she was going to miss him just as much as he was going to miss her. That, at least, was some sort of comfort.

"Well, I suppose this is goodbye," she said, a tear to her eye. She wiped it away quickly, but he had already noticed it.  
"Yes," he said, and grabbed her hand. He clutched it tightly. "But maybe I can visit you some time?"  
"That won't be possible," she said. "This was a once-in-a-lifetime deal. I don't suspect the Ministry will approve of yet another breach of our security laws."  
"Won't you come to see _me_, then?" A small hope still flickered inside of him.  
She hesitated. She'd seen the hope glittering in his eyes as he looked upon her, and she didn't want to put out the light. She knew how he felt about her, because she felt the same way about him. "Yes, Rupert," she said, smiling at him, a warm glow in her eyes. "I can try."  
He couldn't utter another word. He tried, but no sound came over his lips.  
McGonagall understood. She simply leaned forwards and kissed him on the cheek – a light kiss, as though it had just been a gust of wind. He was fully satisfied. Last night had had much more in store, and he would remember it for a long, long time to come. A kiss on the cheek, however chaste, was all he could ask for.  
"Goodbye, Rupert," she whispered, and let go of his hand aversely.

As he got into the carriage, it felt like his heart was going to break.


	10. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

When Giles and the others reached home, their friends greeted them in a cheerful manner. Everyone had gathered at the Summers' house, rented a couple of movies, and there was even cake (which Dawn and Spike had apparently put together), which even if it didn't taste so good at least had been a nice thought.

Xander's meeting with Anya went smoothly. Xander didn't tell her about his unfaithfulness, of course, and Anya didn't give him much space to, anyway; she went on and on about how wonderfully she'd taken care of the Magic Box while they'd been away, mostly because she wanted Giles to hear it, but also just to brag about it.  
When he left her at the altar later on, it had as much to do with nerves as with the new insecurity about his sexual preference. Of course, he never told her that either.

Giles didn't talk much about Minerva, and the others felt it was better not to ask. He tried not to brood too much, and being needed in the daily struggle against the vampires, demons and God-knew-what, he didn't have time to think things over a lot, which was probably for the best. He was too busy a man to dwell on things that had past, and quite frankly, he still nurtured the small hope that Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts professor and animagus, would some day appear on his doorstep.

Not long after their return to home, Buffy broke things off with Spike. She didn't hear from Harry again, but she supposed he was still going at it with Draco. After all, hope is the last thing that dies, as would be proven by Spike's tireless attempts to win her back.

And time would tell if the Scoobies would ever encounter Harry and his friends again…


End file.
